


The Gatekeeper

by metisket



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Gen, Short, because road loves you very much, mind the gap, noah family values, pick a door
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-20 16:29:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/587424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metisket/pseuds/metisket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Road tries her best to take care of her siblings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gatekeeper

I open a door.

The room on the other side is outside; trees and rocks and a sky I pulled from a Tyki-dream about blood-red butterflies and silver knives. And here he is, just where he should be. This is the room I made for Tyki, with its sky and its rocks and the white mansion he dreams about; the one he will never, ever go into. _Once upon a different life_.

This is what Tyki likes: quiet and calm and peace; the occasional hard day’s work (mines or murder). Tyki is a strange thing in this time of machines and bustle and hurry. So new to being a Noah, and already an anachronism.

“Good morning, Tyki.”

“Road, good morning. Is it morning?”

“It is if I want it to be, Tyki-Tyki."

“You’re wandering? I thought Cyril wanted you to do homework today.”

“Maybe today will be a long day, Tyki.”

“Hmm. Messing with time makes you tired, remember.”

“I’ll be careful, brother Tyki. Aren’t you cute to worry?”

I open a door.

The room I made for the twins is very different. A hodgepodge of knives and guns and sweets and pillows. This is what the twins like: a room like a cage, soft things and sharp things, nothing ever completely still.

Jasdevi is busy right now; one person, two people, throwing things, shouting. Their minds are confusing when they’re fighting. They blur and shatter and echo.

“I thought you said you were watching… _was_ watching, where were you?…next to you! It’s not our fault, stupid fucking Cross… the Earl will blame us and _then_ whose fault will it be?…but it isn’t our fault, we’ll explain, he’ll understand…I thought you were going to watch him!…I watched and he disappeared!...he did _not_ disappear, you—“

They’re exhausting when they’re like this, and today I’m not in the mood.

I open a door.

Skin’s room is a room that reminds him of sweets. This is what Skin likes: bright colors and sharp edges and things that sparkle and twirl. He’s standing in a lake of confetti, and he’s lifting rocks onto a ledge.

This is what Skin does when he’s alone. He lifts heavier and heavier things; a competition against no one. Always so angry, poor Skin. If there’s no one around for him to be angry at, he can only be angry with himself.

“Good morning, Skin!”

“Road,” he says, because he never does have much to say.

“For you!” I chirp, and bounce over to pop a candy in his mouth. I always keep candy for my brother.

“Sweet,” he says. He looks happy, or as happy as he knows how to be. I’m glad I can make him happy, even though he always dreams of fire and breaking.

I’ll have a new brother soon; they promised me. I wonder if I’ll know how to make him happy. I wonder if anyone will. His dreams are all of leaving, and they’re only going to get worse.

I open a door.

**Author's Note:**

> First posted August 2008.


End file.
